When You're Gone
by scarylolita
Summary: After the passing of his oldest friend, Craig goes to his newest friend for comfort. Time heals all wounds, but some are worse than others. Slash.


**South Park © Matt & Trey.**

 **I recently completed 7 SP one shots I've been working on for a long time. I finally decided to force myself to finish them haha now I just need to edit them. This is one of the many that I'll be uploading eventually.**

 **Craig's POV!**

* * *

 **January.**

My best friend just died.

It's fucked up. The week before it happened, I lost my virginity to him.

We were drunk.

No, we were beyond drunk.

We just got back to my house from a party in Cherry Creek. It was at Kyle Broflovski's house. His family moved there when we were in high school, but that's beside the point. So, we took a taxi back into South Park. I'm pretty sure we pissed the driver off quite a lot. We were laughing and talking and shouting the entire time – typical drunk behaviour.

We stumbled into my house after paying the driver (and tipping him, of course). Instead of going to my room, we headed into the basement. My parents hate when we're rowdy, so it's better. We don't have to speak in hushed tones.

" _Are you tired?"_ he asked me.

" _Nah_ ," I said, slurring my response. I know I sounded strange. My voice was high pitched, which sounded strange because my voice is usually so deep.

" _What do you wanna do?"_

Then I popped the question and it was probably the last question he had been expecting –

" _Wanna fuck?"_

" _What?"_ he choked out, looking shy.

" _I wanna know what it'd be like_ ," I confessed. " _Plus_ ," I continued, gesturing to myself, _"I'm pretty. Just pretend I'm a girl or something. I'll even let you top."_

" _You're gay?!"_ he exclaimed.

" _I guess,"_ was all I responded with.

Then we did it. We took off our clothes and I let him put it in me. We did it on the sofa in my basement and I haven't been back down there since.

At least I'm able to say it was with someone I loved and someone who loved me back, though I don't know what kind of love it was…

He was in a coma. His dad beat him. He died two days later. I spent both of those days glued to his side, watching him breathe. Then he stopped and the monitor flat-lined. There was nothing. He was quiet and still and his eyes were closed. His face was still horrendously bruised. His eyes were swollen shut. He didn't even look like himself. He didn't look the way he should – the way I was used to him looking.

I never used to find comfort in things like praying and church, but that changed. I've been praying a lot and come Sunday, I go to church. My parents aren't particularly religious, so I always go by myself. I sit in the back because I don't feel like I really belong. I'm a bad Christian. I drink and have sex and smoke, even though I'm only fifteen – a child.

I kept telling myself that when he woke up I'd tell him I loved him. He always said it to me, but I never said it back. It wasn't a romantic confession. I know when he said it he simply meant that I was the most important person in his life. I guess that was enough for us to share what we did.

It hurts too much to think about what kind of love I held for him. So, I try not to anymore. I feel too sick to my stomach with grief.

What do I do?

When he died, I screamed at his sister for not taking him with her when she left South Park. She abandoned him and he died because of it. I know she felt guilt over how it ended and I just rubbed her face in it.

* * *

 **February.**

My best friend's name was Clyde Donovan. His dad is in prison. His funeral was on a Monday last month. His older sister asked me to make a speech, since I knew him best. My voice broke until what I was saying was no longer decipherable. I ended up crying half way through in front of everyone, so she finished reading my speech while my mom escorted me off the stage.

It was the first time I cried about it.

" _It was weird seeing you cry_ ," Tweek had said to me the follow day.

I didn't cry while he was in the hospital. I thought if I did then it'd make me seem hopeless. I was trying to be hopeful. I was trying to wish for some sort of miracle. I wanted him to wake up and then I'd tell him I loved him back and we could continue being best friends.

But that's stupid because he's fucking dead.

Now everything feels like it's going in slow motion.

* * *

 **March.**

My mom agrees to home school me, but in return she makes me see a grief counsellor. I guess that's fair. It's been nearly three months. I should be okay by now, shouldn't I? But I guess it's different when you love someone as much as I loved Clyde.

Tweek, Token and Kenny keep visiting me, trying to drag me outside. I don't want to, though. I want to throw up. Everything reminds me of Clyde and I'm still not okay.

"You look sick," Tweek murmurs and Token nudges him in the shoulder.

The four of us are seated on my bed. I look like road kill, which I'm aware of. I haven't showered in three days.

Kenny stays quiet. His eyes are drawn together in concentration as he rolls a joint.

"Shut up," I say in a pained whisper, closing my eyes. "He was the only person I trusted…"

"Sorry," Tweek says quietly.

I haven't known Tweek for long but I know he isn't good with this kind of stuff and, hell, neither am I.

We were friends when we were kids, but we grew apart. The only reason we got to know one another again is because he is friends with Kenny. I became friends with Kenny last year because he bummed my lighter. We smoke together sometimes. It makes me feel better.

"Here," Kenny murmurs, handing it to me first.

I nod my thanks, lighting it and inhaling deeply and holding it in.

I'm always in this state of half-crying. My eyes are always bloodshot and swollen and my nose is red. No more tears, though.

"You okay, dude?" Kenny asks me for what feels like the millionth time at this point.

"Mhm," I say before passing the joint back to him.

"You don't look it," Tweek points out.

I blow smoke in his face and then ask him, "Do I ever?"

They know I slept with Clyde. I told them. I laughed as I said it, but then I just cried about it. Clyde was fifteen. Kids aren't supposed to die.

Then again, we're not really supposed to be doing any of the stuff we do on a regular basis.

I know it'll pass. It always does, right? I can't stay sad forever. I'll go insane.

* * *

 **April.**

On Clyde's birthday, we all visit his grave. Bebe brings flowers. There are tears on her face, but she's quiet. When she spots me, she smiles wearily and puts an arm around me, giving me a lazy hug.

Bebe and Clyde used to date. They broke up last year, but I know they still cared an awful lot about one another.

She took Clyde's virginity and he took mine. Maybe Bebe thinks we have something in common. I guess we do. We have Clyde in common.

"Kenny told me you and Clyde…" she trails off, pausing. "He told me you guys got together."

I scoff at that, but I'm not as angry as I should be. I guess I'm too sad to be angry.

"I don't even know what it meant," I whisper.

She shrugs and then says simply, "It meant he loved you."

I close my eyes and sigh. "I loved him, too."

* * *

 **May.**

Tweek skips school to come hang out with me. He manages to coax me out of the house and we head to his parents' café. They don't say anything about him skipping. They probably think he has a free, or maybe they just don't care. I don't really know much about his parents or family situation. Actually, come to think about it, I don't know much about him at all. I'm sure he's changed since we were little kids. He seems like he has, at least. He doesn't tremble as much. He's not as nervous.

We get lattes for free and sit in the farthest corner of the café near the windows.

"How are you?" he asks me.

He doesn't shake as much. That much I've noticed. Sure, he still twitches a bit, but he's calmer. I don't know if drugs have helped or if it's just time. Time changes things, whether for better or worse.

"Okay," I say.

"Really?"

I force a smile. "Nah. I feel pretty bad, but I guess I'm a little better than I was last month."

He smiles faintly in return. "Then I guess that's what matters. Progress doesn't have to be a lot in a little amount of time. It can be a little in a long amount of time, too."

"Yeah, you're right," I say. "You know, you're a lot different than I remember you being when we were little kids."

He shrugs sheepishly. "You mean I don't twitch and shake as much, right? I've got methods of keeping myself calm."

"Like what?" I pry, unable to recall how paranoid and loud he was when we were little.

"A lot of pot," he says with a laugh.

Called it.

"It doesn't make you even more paranoid?"

He shakes his head. "It does the opposite. It just kind of chills me out… and I probably smoke too much, but I'd rather smoke than be anxious all the time."

"Yeah," I murmur.

I guess that's why I smoke that shit, too.

* * *

 **June.**

Me and Tweek continue to hang around one another. I feel like we're both very different people, but we've been getting along.

By summer, it still hurts, but not as intensely. I feel like it will always hurt at least a little bit because Clyde was a constant presence in my life – one I never tired of. He was important. But life is for the living, right? It might sound cold, but I need to try and move on. For my sake and for everyone else's sake, too.

I don't know why Tweek stuck by me through all of this. I know if I were him, I probably would have gotten sick of me, but he's been patient. At one point, he even manages to coax a real smile out of me.

"Hey!" he exclaims. "You're smiling!"

Then I start laughing because he looks so proud. "Yeah, I guess I am."

I guess it's true what they say: Time heals.

* * *

 **July.**

Summer break means bonfires, swimming in the lake, tubing, ice cream and a whole lot of other things I'm not especially fond of. Nonetheless, I decide to let loose for the first time in my life.

In the past, Clyde had to drag me to social events kicking and screaming. Now, I drag myself out of the house. It's the least I can do. I know he'd be proud.

While I've been to many bonfires, I've never took to the water. I can't even swim.

Token's dad owns a boat, so he's been taking people tubing for the majority of the evening. I don't go out because I'm kind of scared of the water, but I sit on the boat with Token and Tweek. We're all wearing swim trunks and we're a bit damp from being splashed. Token keeps swerving the boat and taking sharp turns. Bebe and Kenny are on the tube now and I'm surprised they haven't flown off yet. I can hear them screaming as the boat ripples across the water at what feels like the speed of light. Tweek is snickering and taking pictures of their reactions.

"Sure you don't wanna try it?" Token asks me as he steers the boat.

"If you go on, I'll go on," Tweek says, glancing at me through his camera lens. I hear a _click_ as he takes a photo of me and another _click_ as he takes one of Token, who grins.

I press my lips together before admitting, "I can't swim."

"Put on a life jacket."

"Ah… all right, fine," I relent.

Token smiles at that. "You're gonna have fun."

"We'll see," I say.

When our turn comes, Token pulls up to the dock and grabs me a life jacket. I put it on, trying not to feel like a baby because of it.

We get on the tube and I hold on for dear life. I literally feel the fear of God strike me when Token turns on the boat, but when we get going it's not so bad. I think he's going easy on us because he knows I'm scared shitless.

But it's probably the most fun I've had in a damn long time.

When it gets dark, Token parks the boat and we gather around the fire. Kenny tells ghost stories and everyone roasts marshmallows and hot dogs.

Tweek sits down next to me, handing me a soda. I smile and thank him.

"Having fun?" he asks, raising his camera at me once again.

I smile until I hear the _click_ and then I say, "Oddly, yes." A pause. "Why do you take so many pictures?"

"I like to remember the good times."

And I guess these are the good times.

* * *

 **August.**

Things take a turn the following month when Tweek confesses something to me.

"I like you, Craig," he says.

"What?" I respond stupidly.

"I like you," he says again.

"Since when?" I ask, because this feels so sudden.

"Since always, I guess," he admits. "I think I've felt it deep down even when we were little. I pushed it to the side when we grew apart, but now that we're friends again it feels impossible to ignore and I know you might still feel things for Clyde, but… you should give me a chance… when you're ready."

"I feel like I'll always feel something for Clyde," I confess.

"That's okay," Tweek says. "He was your first and it meant a lot to you."

"Yeah," I whisper. I feel contemplative. Am I ready to take this step? It's such a huge step.

"Okay, look, you don't have to answer now," Tweek adds quickly, probably sensing my internal distress. "I'm not hanging out with you just 'cause I wanna get into your pants. I like being your friend. So, take all the time you need. I'll wait."

"That's not fair to you," I murmur.

"I'm offering, Craig," he says.

I let out a sigh and smile faintly. "All right, I'll think about it."

* * *

 **September.**

So, I have been. I've been thinking long and hard.

Things have been the same with us lately. We've still been spending a lot of time together and he's been patient while I try to make up my mind. We haven't been talking about it, but I think we should.

So, I drop by his place (uninvited). He lets me in and we move up into his bedroom. It's the first time I've been up here. I glance around. It's messy. Very messy. There are clothes on the floor, along with some books and papers with school notes.

"Sorry about the mess," he says as we manoeuvre towards his bed.

"It's okay," I insist.

We sit on the unmade bed, sitting side by side on the edge. It's quiet as I contemplate how to word what I want to say.

Now or never, I suppose.

"Why do you like me?" I ask him. I feel like I need to know before I make my mind up. "What's so special about me?"

"Oh, uh, well," he starts, "I like everything. I like the way you talk. I like the sound of your voice. I like that you seem like a quiet, monotonous person, but when someone gets to know you they find out you're have a lot of interesting things to say. I know you're really sad lately, but I still like you even when you're not happy."

I find myself smiling. I turn my head and glance at him as he continues listing all the reasons he wants to be with me. I let myself eye him critically, analyzing all of his features. We're both slim and about the same height – I might be an inch shorter. He has straw-blond hair that is pretty messy. It gets in his face a lot, so he usually pins his bangs on top of his head. His eyes are brown (like coffee, his favorite). His skin is as pale as mine is and he has some faint freckles on his long nose. He looks nice in a completely unconventional way.

"So… yeah…" he finishes. "Lots of reasons, I guess."

He must really like me because his list is thoughtful and there isn't one shallow thing on it.

"Do you think I'm pretty?" I ask him.

"Yeah," he says with a laugh. "You're, like, really attractive."

I smile again. "All right. Let's go out."

Maybe he'll be the one I can really move on with.

* * *

 **October.**

On Halloween, I forego parties and stay home to pass out candy. Tweek bums around my house with me. I wear cat ears and he wears mouse ears. Ruby paints our faces before heading out with her friends.

Since my parents are out, we jack some of their liquor from the cabinet. The trick-or-treaters slow down around 9PM, so we decide to turn on the TV and watch some stupid cartoon specials.

We get drunk and kiss a lot.

Things have been going nice with him and I haven't been sad much at all lately. I think he senses this, too. I've been smiling a lot.

My parents weren't surprised. I think they always kind of knew I'd end up with a guy. Maybe they didn't think it would be Tweek, but they seemed happy for me. I think they're happy that I'm no longer dwelling.

It's funny. I felt like I'd never move on because Clyde didn't just leave, he died… but I'm okay. It's still sad to think about and it probably always will be, but I'm okay.

* * *

 **November.**

I finally feel ready to go visit Clyde again. This time, it isn't to say happy birthday. It's to say other things. Hand-in-hand with Tweek, we walk to the cemetery. When we're standing in front of Clyde's grave, I feel the need to cry. So, I let myself, unashamed.

In my head, I talk to him. I say I'm sorry. I say I wish I could have helped him. Things got bad after his mom passed away. His father snapped. Maybe it was because Clyde looked like her and it just hurt too much to look at him. I don't really know. No one will ever know.

Clyde had secrets and he liked to downplay them. His happy go lucky façade was just that – a façade. I never knew it was as bad as it was. I never expected him to die. We all saw the bruises, but it was something no one liked to talk about, especially not Clyde. Maybe, if we tried harder, then this could have been prevented. I would have let him live with me. I know my parents would have been okay with it. They loved him like a second son.

I raise the hand that isn't currently holding Tweek's and I wipe my eyes.

"Goodbye, Clyde," I whisper, feeling like I can finally say it.

Goodbye.

I avoided that word for so long. I thought that saying it would have made things harder. Goodbyes are permanent and I didn't want to believe that I'd never see Clyde again… but I'm done bargaining. There's no more room for what-ifs.

"Are you okay?" Tweek asks me as we leave the cemetery.

"I will be," I say.

When we get home, we sleep together for the first time. Maybe it's fucked up to do it now, but I don't really care. I let him stick it in me and it feels like the timing is just right.

* * *

 **December.**

Christmas is coming. Our house is decorated. Everyone is getting into the spirit of the holiday. I try to do so, too.

Tweek has been spending a lot of time at my house. His parents are pretty oblivious potheads, so sometimes they don't even notice when he's gone.

We sit together quietly in front of the television. It's late evening, but my parents are in the kitchen baking with Ruby. Some Christmas special is on.

"I can't believe you've never seen _Frosty the Snowman_ ," Tweek says.

"I was never into television as a kid," I admit, watching him instead of the TV screen. "Well, apart from _Red Racer_."

Tweek chuckles at that. "You used to love that show."

"Yeah."

He's patient. He cares about me. He's all the good things. Sure, sometimes he lacks tact and sometimes he says stupid stuff, but he always makes up for it as best as he can.

"You okay?" he asks when he catches me staring at him.

I smile faintly. "Never better."

 **Fin.**


End file.
